


Dreams

by misspamela



Category: The Eagle (2011)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-03
Updated: 2011-03-03
Packaged: 2017-10-16 01:59:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/167205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misspamela/pseuds/misspamela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Very short little something-something I wrote</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreams

Since returning from north of the wall, even the smallest noises woke Marcus. He had spent too many hours in danger and too many years in the military to sleep the deep sleep of an ordinary citizen again. So it was the soft cry coming from Esca's new quarters -- guest rooms, close to Marcus, not the slave quarters anymore -- that woke him, sending him out of his sleep and into Esca's room.

Esca thrashed on his low pallet, his mouth twisted in wordless anger. Marcus marveled at how it was never fear; Esca was never afraid, even in his dreams. He must be dreaming of the boy again. Or his father. Or his mother. Or any one of the nameless horrors that led him to the arena where Marcus had first seen him. Marcus knelt by him and softly touched his shoulder. "Sssh," he said. "Esca, ssshhh."

It seemed to do no good, so Marcus climbed in next to him, the wooden frame barely holding their two bodies. Marcus was grateful for all the fat Senators his uncle entertained, making him generous in his accommodations. He pulled closer to Esca, wrapping one arm around him, like they had on many cold nights north of the wall. Esca quieted, leaning back against him, murmuring something in his native tongue. Too late, Marcus realized his error. They were no longer in danger of freezing. They were not master and slave, a man and his property. They were now two men, lying in a bed in the most improper manner. They were both unclothed, save for their underclothes. Marcus knew his own weaknesses and here, here was weakness and temptation and everything he wanted all tangled together like the Fate's threads. He could feel the heat radiating from Esca's back, could see muscles moving under his skin, outlined in black tattoos. Marcus wanted to taste them, to trace that black ink with his tongue and see if they felt any different than the rest of his skin. The urge overtook him so strongly that his mouth flooded with saliva and tingled with want.

But Esca was not his anymore. Marcus could not do what he wanted with him, even though he didn't do so when Esca was a slave; Marcus hadn't known his own desires then. And now Esca was his own man. A full man, with his own desires and goals, hard-won by his courage, and Marcus would not shame him by treating like a woman or a prostitute. '

Still, he couldn't seem to make himself get out from under the thin wool blanket that covered them both. He lay there for a moment, desire rising through him like a tide, in waves, crashing over each other and receding only slightly between crests. His sex grew heavy with desire, brushing against Esca's back. Marcus closed his eyes and relished the sensation, heat curling in his gut, his jaw clenched and tight. Just a minute more and he would leave. He couldn't have Esca, but maybe he could take this, this stolen moment in the middle of the night.

"You want me," Esca said sleepily, raising himself up on his elbow. "And yet you just lie there, tense from head to toe, breathing heavily in my ear." He smiled, reaching out to touch the side of Marcus' face. Marcus gasped at the contact, pressing his face hungrily into Esca's palm. "Is that what Romans do? Your women must get very bored."

"I cannot take you," Marcus said. "You-- I shouldn't have stayed. I'm sorry." He went to rise, prepared to walk in humiliation, naked and hard, back to his rooms.

"Foolish," Esca said, and it was amazing how the tone of voice was so similar to how he used to say _as you wish, domine_. He grabbed Marcus' wrist and drew him closer, lining their bodies together. Marcus sucked in a lungful of breath, feeling Esca's chest against his own and his breath against his mouth and he couldn't help twitching his hips in helpless little jerks against Esca's own hardness. "What if," Esca said, trailing his hand down Marcus' chest. "What if I took you instead?"

At that image, the image of the things they could do together, things that Roman men did but did not discuss, ideas half-formed like crude graffito in Marcus' mind, he pulled forward, capturing Esca's mouth as soon as Esca captured his sex in his hand and Marcus couldn't help himself, he spilled himself helpless and gasping all over Esca's hand.

Esca shuddered and his breath hitched, caught in the back of his throat, as he moved over Marcus, pushing him on his back and rutting into the curve of his hip, whispering things in his language, things that sounded wonderful and terrible and terrifying, until he stiffened against Marcus and came, one hand fisted behind Marcus' head and the other clenched on his hip.

"See, that is how my people do things," Esca said, his voice slurred with sleep. "We are men of action."

"Perhaps you will show me that again," Marcus said. "I find that I'm hungry to learn more about your people."

And so he did.


End file.
